


Ignore Not

by Magi_Silverwolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternative Universe - Changed History, Dark is not Evil, Heavy Use of Fairy Lore, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light is not Good, Manipulative Dumbledore, Multi, Witchcraft is Different than Wizardry, sentient magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:48:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11898075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magi_Silverwolf/pseuds/Magi_Silverwolf
Summary: Magic was ignored once and proceeded to make every mage who dared to practice wizardry pay the price. Now only the witches were left, each with an allegiance to a lord of magic. The system worked well...until the Lord of Light for the British Isles stole the fealty of users against the edicts of Magic.As three soulmates finally meet, Magic prepares to remind Dumbledore why he would have done well to not ignore her warnings.





	Ignore Not

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.  
> Warnings: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers.  
> Author's Note: There are a lot of fairy lore references, but the one that probably needs to be pointed out is that in fairy lore, you aren't dealing with a good-evil spectrum. You're barely dealing with a lawful-chaotic spectrum. There are distinctly two Courts, yeah, and they are essentially a Light one and a Dark one, but that's "safe" versus "dangerous" like most people think. An Unseelie (dark fae) is more likely to kill a mortal. That is very true. But they are also more likely to honor any deal they make, sometimes even the spirit of it. A Seelie? Not so much.

-= LP =-

Ignore Not

-= LP =-

“A fool too late bewares when all the peril is past.” – Queen Elizabeth I of England

-= LP =-

 

Magic didn’t like being ignored.

 

That was a lesson which the wizards learned the hard way.

 

Hogwarts was once a shining bastion of wizarding culture and traditions, along with its sister institutions of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Its very name declared its intent to teach not only wizardry but also witchcraft. If they had stuck to that promise, maybe Magic wouldn’t have felt ignored. Maybe everything that happened afterwards could have been avoided.

 

Maybe.

 

It wasn’t like they hadn’t been forewarned that it was coming. Even as the Founders had been forming the infamous school—the school which helped bring about the end of European Wizardry—there had been warning signs. Battles were fought over the danger presented by the arrogant displays made by wizards and vilifying the witches would only buy them so much time. Salazar Slytherin’s eventual retreat from his friends was largely ignored—painted viciously as distaste for the newly endowed despite it being the increasingly common slaughter of magi, even children displaying their first bursts of Magic’s Blessing. Morgana of the Fae had used her own magic to lock away the Cambion known as Merlin Ambrosius but still the wizards carried on in his name as if he was a god or Magic Herself. In disgust, Morgana had retreated to the isle she had pulled _between_. After her half-brother had returned to her, on the edge of death, she had closed the mist to all but her agents. They painted her use of dark magic as evil and ignored all the lies Merlin’s light magic had needed to be justified. The wizards continued on as if they could master something as wild as magic with nothing more than a stick and their stubbornness.

 

It wasn’t ignorance that led to their downfall.

 

It had been arrogant stupidity.

 

She let them have their little game _once_ , their _Tri-Wizard Tournament_. She let them pit their children— _Her children_ —against each other _once_ and sent warnings not to do it again. Five years later, they held another one, another pointless display of brutal violence and their willingness to endanger children. They ignored every warning that Magic had ever sent them and every warning that the magi who practiced any form of witchcraft had told them.

 

And Magic didn’t like being ignored.

 

In the exact moment that the first child had died, Magic had ripped Her Blessing from every wizard who had passed their twenty-first birthday. The European magical communities had been cut in half in a matter of hours. Moreover, it was shown exactly who still followed the practices and methods that had been labeled as _dark_ before being made illegal. The Ripping repeated itself for years before the Tri-Wizard schools had finally learned to stop ignoring the source of their power. Magic made it clear that wizardry would no longer be tolerated.

 

As the Fourteenth Century dawned, it was clear that Europe had to abandon their showy wands and reassess their practices if they were going to survive. No one could really say what life would have been like if wizardry had continued to thrive—if Magic hadn’t decided to put Her metaphorical foot down. Maybe there would have been sweeping amounts of prejudice against the newly endowed and the non-magicals. Maybe those with creature blood would be considered secondary citizens in their own countries, possibly even having to register their locations. Maybe they would have let magi use their magic against each other without repercussions.

 

Maybe the Great War would not have started, between lords of Light and Dark.

 

Albus Dumbledore certainly wasn’t anyone’s favorite Lord to pay homage to, but by right of conquest, he held the title of Lord of Light. He had defeated Gellert Grindelwald for the title, then had promptly claimed the other magus as his Consort. The Lord of Darkness came out of the non-magical world, and was believed for years to be a newly-endowed. Then it was discovered that his mother had been of the Witch Founder’s line, one of the last able to make such a claim. Even being the Heir of Slytherin wasn’t enough to bring forth Riddle’s soulmate, and so the Dark Lord was without a Consort.

 

No one knew what brought the two lords into conflict. All that was known was that they were waging a very bloody war between them and as long as no child was physically harmed, Magic was letting it continue without interference. Then, as the story goes, there was a prophecy, a promise of a possible end to all the death and destruction.

 

There was to be a child born who would vanquish the Dark Lord after being marked as his equal.

 

One often meets one’s fate on the road to avoid it.

 

On the night that non-magicals had designated as All Hallows’ Eve, the Dark Lord marked his equal and was vanquished. Dumbledore whisked the infant away and installed his own Consort as the new Lord of Darkness, declaring the Great War over due to their bonds of fealty and love. All of the oaths which bound the witches of Britannia converged into one person’s possession for the first time, something which Magic had previously prevented completely.

 

Maybe Albus Dumbledore should have paid more attention to history.

 

Because Magic never liked to be ignored.

 

-= LP =-

 

The park was the closest that the portal could drop them to their target. It was unfortunate, but it had been getting progressive harder to open the Mist as Dumbledore solidified his power over the main realm. Morgana had warned that she may not be able to reopen it for their return until the balance was restored and that Magic was quickly running out of patience. Luna didn’t want to be outside of Avalon if the Mother decided to start another Ripping, and she was fairly certain that Neville felt the same.

 

“Do they make everything out of iron?” Neville asked, his round nose wrinkling in distaste. Luna could understand that sentiment. All around them, even in the tiny space of green, the _taste/feel_ of untempered iron pulsed against her senses. Her stomach twisted from the intense desire to flee from it, to seek out somewhere safe to hide until she could retreat back to a Sidhe or even just a _between_ space like her native Avalon. But they had a reason for being here, and they couldn’t just abandoned it.

 

They couldn’t abandon _him_ , now that they knew of him. Nearly twenty years, he had been hidden from Morgana’s sight. She had sent agents to attempt to find him, but none had any luck and the world had been growing increasingly hostile to magi coming from any realm convergent with a Sidhe. It was only the respect of Queen Maeve which had allowed Morgana to risk sending one last team out to find the rightful Heir of the Dark Lordship. So, of course, Lady Morgana made certain to pick the people most likely to succeed. Magic Herself would aid the seeking, as She did for all soulmates. Already, Luna could feel the tingle of awareness which had led her once to the man shifting beside her.

 

“That way,” Neville said as he pointed to the South. She gave him a nod, moving to take point. He rubbed her arm as she passed him, a comfort just as silent as she had to be in this realm. As a Sidhe-born bard, it would be far better for her to remain as silent as possible. Every word she spoke had power, had the touch of magic. Being conceived and born in a place like Avalon, the faery magic intertwined with her Blessing just made her gifts and training all the more powerful. A single syllable would be enough to warn Dumbledore’s monitors that magic had been used around where he had secreted his true opponent, at least magic which didn’t belong to the boy in question. Silence was only to their advantage, and they had known that before they left.

 

They moved between shadows. The non-magical people barely looked at them, the clinging traces of Avalon driving their attention to skip over them. She traced a practiced gaze over the non-magicals, taking note of the strange fashions and the complete lack of visible weapons. If she was forced to glamour Neville and herself, she would have to hide his sword completely. What a strange concept! Who would be so foolish as to travel about completely defenseless? Did they have no town guard?

 

They found the little house easily enough, despite the overwhelming sameness of the neighborhood. It was the only one which had magic. Not even the house a block over with its large population of magical cats had more than a faint trace of magic to it—and that was most likely from the animals that lived there. Number 4 Privet Drive was laden with protective wards and its gardens had enough magic within the plants to have attracted the lesser fairies to hide among them. Even in the crispness of late autumn, it mimicked the full life of late spring.

 

There were a sentry under an invisibility cloak (not even a really good one as it distorted the scenery instead of blended perfectly) directly across the street.

 

With only a glance between them, Neville let Luna step away alone while he crouched out of sight but where he could still watch the house. Like a shadow herself, Luna moved with silent precision around the perimeter of the place. Every bit of this built upon her suspicions which had already been thick when it was revealed just what the situation was in Britannia. The rest of Earth fared much better—the problem of the False Lord was still contained to his native islands. The boxwood hedge was annoying but Luna knew that it was a popular decoration for non-magicals. But the window boxes with marigolds and primrose had to have been deliberate. That only one window had crossed bars of pure iron just confirmed the idea that _someone_ knew where the heir’s rescuers would be coming from and what sort of limitations they might have. She returned to Neville with the same quiet stealth that she had left him.

 

“Find any additional guards?” Neville asked quietly. She shook her head before wrinkling her nose. Neville grimaced in sympathy. “Yeah, I can see the flowers and hedge from here, and there’s a stronger bite to the iron here. The guard doesn’t patrol though—just stands there watching and occasionally shifting their weight. They don’t have any magic items on their person beyond the cloak and something with a communication spell on it. The wards—they must be expecting nothing to be able to get through them that wouldn’t be stopped by either the hedge or the window boxes. It’s a stupid thing to depend upon—they _are_ strong but not as strong as all that and nowhere near what they could be.”

 

She raised an eyebrow at him. His response was to briefly touch the thick scar on his cheek, a reminder of his childhood before being stolen by Lady Morgana _herself_. Thank Mother Magic that her parents had the sense to petition for the Lady to grant them hospitality in Avalon. Earth was such a cruel, heartless place that had no kindness for children. The British witches were even worse, it seemed at times. She bit back a snarl at the thought of their soulmate having been raised completely within such a cold household. Even still, her magic prickled under her skin, begging for revenge.

 

“We’re here now, and he’ll soon be safe, my love,” Neville soothed. He stroked a hand down her bare arm. The callouses from his sword grip was a relaxing scratch along the length. The tingly twitch of their magic combining and multiply, even in that brief touch, was as comforting as always, and just as achy as the combined magic recognized the missing element. She turned her gaze longingly to the bland house which hid their third. Neville sighed. “I know. But despite it all, we finally found him and we’re not leaving without him.”

 

Just then a high-pitched screech filled the air. It was quickly followed by equally terrible shouting. Someone was clearly berating another person at a volume that should have had the neighbors poking their heads out of their homes. But no one stirred, not even the lone sentry. The vitriol was thick with hatred and viciousness. It was also clearly coming from Number 4 because the wards dimmed with every word only to shimmer back to their original setting in every pause. Luna felt sick as she realized what she had to be seeing: wards based on _love_ where there was none to be had.

 

“No,” she whispered, horrified. The syllable’s power rippled the air around her—and Neville was moving before she even recognized that she had broken their cover. It was as natural as breathing to follow in his wake. The boxwood would have worked well to keep them out, especially her, except for the foolish openings created by the driveway and front walk. Likewise, every window was protected but main door of the house was left alone, without even iron in its hinges. It was all foolish mistakes, but useful now as Neville forced the wooden door open with a single kick.

 

The sentry didn’t engage them, but they knew better than to expect that. A single sentry with a communication device was not meant to engage attackers. They were meant to inform a different force. Depending on the kill of the witches that could be marshalled on short notice, they had at least ten minutes before they met resistance. Dumbledore’s forces had difficulty using independent teleportation methods and thus were reliant upon set-location methods—their so-called _portkeys_. Dumbledore wouldn’t dare send any of his stolen forces, lest they realize who actually succeeded the last Dark Lord. She let a counter start in her head.

 

“How dare you enter my home!” screeched a harridan of a woman—the same one which had been yelling not a moment before. Neville looked unimpressed by her enraged expression. Luna was happy to leave dealing with her to him while she focused on the bleeding form huddled against the wall. There would never be a time when she would forget the resigned fear in those emerald eyes. It made her want to weep even as she tore his enemies apart while they still lived. It was a fairy’s rage, she knew, but for a single heartbeat she nearly traded places with her Neville—a quick death by a blade would be too quick—and then she was kneeling before their final piece. The magic between them sought the blending, even without touch, and it held the yearning of a lifetime. She touched his cheek, the blood slippery beneath her fingers. The magic pulsed and yanked—by the Mother, she had believed that she and Neville had boosted each other upon initially meeting.

 

This was so much more than that. This was completeness. This was wholeness.

 

This was _power_.

 

Somewhere far off, where her bardic ability came from, Luna heard Magic laugh in vindictive joy.

 

Magic really didn’t like being ignored.

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for a challenge in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) on the FFN forum.  
> The Challenge Information:  
> House: Gryffindor  
> Claimed Pairing: Lunar Heroes (Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter)  
> Day 23: Power Boost upon Meeting  
> Extra Prompt[s]: n/a  
> Word Count: 2542


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